Kainashi
by Estel Kenobi
Summary: Who can say which is harder...to be the one who's fading away, or the one watching it happen?
1. How the Mighty Have Fallen

**Chapter 1**

**How the Mighty Have Fallen**

"Tommy?"

The call echoed through the empty house and Haley shivered, dropping her grocery bags on the floor in a rustle of plastic to pull the front door closed behind her.

"Tommy?" she called again, a little louder this time.

Silence.

"Stubborn man..." it came out on a sigh, her shoulders dropping fractionally as she realized today was going to be another uphill battle. So what else was new?

Her mouth set in a thin line; she quickly pulled her hair back into the elastic band from her wrist, both already bearing marks from the many handles that had been digging into them. She gathered up the bags once more, struggling with their weight just as she had up the driveway. "Tommy!"

"In the kitchen," the stiff voice drifted from her destination and she tried not to wince at it as she hauled her burden through the living room.

"Hey," she greeted, dropping the bags in a heap next to the refrigerator and shaking her hands as the blood rushed back into them, "I brought groceries."

"I can see that."

Haley frowned at his back, noting the taunt shoulders as he hunched over the kitchen's island with a whiskey tumbler of orange juice...at least that had better be what was in there. One leg was wrapped around the leg of the bar stool he slouched on while the other dangled free. She knew he could feel her gaze, but other then that terse comment he made no move to acknowledge her presence. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Tommy..."

"_Don't._"

The brusque order gave her pause. After a moment's consideration and another quiet sigh, she bent over the bags and started putting things away.

Tommy made no move to help.

It was only when she ventured to the breadbox to replace the moldy loaf she knew lurked inside and he shifted to keep his back to her did she realize what he was trying to hide. "Did you shave?"

He still didn't turn around, "Yes."

"I would have helped you with that..."

"I can do it."

"I know you can...but you always cut yourself." Haley moved closer to see what the damage was. The loss of his usual beard always meant the loss of some blood too and she dreaded the thought that he wouldn't look at her because it was bad this time. He batted her hand away as she reached for his face and that was when she saw it...

"Tommy, let me see your hand."

"No."

"Thomas Oliver..."

"Do NOT." He finally spun around and she backed away from the anger in his gaze. "Do not take that condescending tone with me, Haley. I get it from everyone else; I don't need it here, in my own home."

"But your hand..."

"I cut it, okay? I dropped a plate and cut my hand cleaning it up."

She took in the sloppy bandage barely wrapped around it, "Why didn't you call me?"

"Because I'm not an invalid!" he exploded, surging to his feet. "I can take care of myself and I don't need you at my beck and call to clean up every little mess I make!" He stalked closer with every word, "I...don't..._need_ you! I can buy my own groceries and keep my own house and clean up my own damn plate!!!"

By the time he bit out the word "plate", Haley was backed against the counter with the marble digging into her back and his fury looming down on her. Something dangerous sparked in her eyes and she shoved his chest, "No! You're not an invalid. You're just a stubborn bastard who can't seem to get it through his thick skull that things are different!"

"I know things are different!!!" his voice rose even more if possible. "Every time I go to tie my shoes or wash the dishes I know!! I can't even—" he cut himself off and scowled down at her, "Nevermind..."

Haley watched him with clenched fists and a steely glare as he went back to his stool and hunched over the tumbler once more, taking a long swallow in a way that made her suspect all the more that there was something a lot "stronger" then orange juice inside. She cursed under her breath and turned her back on him as well, throwing things into the refrigerator with the force of her displeasure.

Snatching a rag from the stove and shooting another glare at the brooding man, she set about cleaning the scattered food off the counter.

Her hands stilled...finally _seeing_ the items she seized with hard, angry actions.

Bread, stale but edible...lettuce, wilted but yes, fit for consumption...mayonnaise and mustard...an open package of cold cuts...her favorite brand of hot peppers...there was even a candle shoved behind the bag of bread. It hit her then…why he had bothered taking down real plates when paper or Styrofoam was so much easier.

"Tommy...were you trying to make us lunch?"

His jaw clenched but the telltale shimmer in the brown eyes that refused to meet hers betrayed the suppressed emotion.

Haley felt something inside shatter. "I'm _so_ sorry..." he flinched away from the hands she rested on his shoulders and she bit her lip.

"God I'm pathetic." Tommy's husky voice had her blinking back tears.

"No...you're--"

"Stop. Just...stop." He shifted enough to look at her. Haley couldn't help but note the small cuts on his face, barely starting to scab over. "You were right. I can't shave without hurting myself. I can't even do something nice for you without screwing it up and then blowing up at you for something that wasn't your fault."

"But you tried..."

He turned away again, "That's not good enough."

She stood silent, helplessly watching him draw in on himself. Tentatively she sat down next to him, "Can I see your hand?"

He extended it without looking at her.

She turned his palm over and blinked, "Duct tape?"

Tommy shrugged fractionally.

"But how…"

"My teeth. That's how I tore it off before anyway."

"Resourceful." That was an understatement and she knew it. The things he managed to accomplish in this state still amazed her.

Tommy didn't bat an eye as she tugged off the makeshift bandage though Haley winced herself, knowing how much it had to hurt. She peered at the wound and grimaced, "There's still bits of ceramic in there."

"I know. I couldn't get it out..."

That something inside that broke just moments ago fractured even further at the quiet admission. The past six months had been about little else but proving he could function on his own power...take care of himself. To confess there was something he could no longer do was a terrible blow to his pride.

She patted his arm, knowing a comforting smile would be anything but. "I'll be right back."

Haley didn't really expect a reaction...so why did she still feel the sting of disappointment when he did nothing to acknowledge her slipping out of the kitchen and down the hall. To hell with Tommy coping...why wasn't _she_ beyond this?

She went straight to the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink, automatically putting away Tommy's razor before pulling out what she needed and sliding the glass closed again. He hadn't moved when she returned to the kitchen...his arm still extended across the island's marble counter. And he still didn't move as she used tweezers to dig the shards out of his palm.

Haley watched his face for any flicker to hint at what he was thinking, feeling. There was nothing. Just an empty stare directed away from her searching eyes. His fingers twitched when she dabbed antiseptic on the cut...that was it.

So this is what it took to bring down the mighty Thomas Oliver. All the megalomaniacs that tried and failed over the years to shatter his spirit...and in the end he self-destructed.

He hadn't given up or fallen into depression like many people in his position had done. He'd started out with a defiant spark in his eyes and every intention of going on with life like normal. He plowed through his physical therapy and faced every menial task with the same determination that made him a legendary ranger. Everyone thought he'd be fine. And for a time he was.

Haley gave the fresh bandage a final tug but did not release his hand. She cradled it between both of hers, running a thumb in circles over his calloused skin, reluctant to say anything.

The one thing that kept him going when he was a ranger was the one thing he didn't have now.

Hope.

This big bad wasn't going away, couldn't be defeated.

It was the little things that slowly chipped away at him. Forgetting...in a moment of distraction, and then the shame of something like a broken plate to snap him back to his altered reality. The frustration at himself and his inability that he pushed away, but it kept slithering back.

Haley started when Tommy's fingers tightened around hers, gaze flying to his face. He wasn't staring into space anymore, but he wasn't looking at her ether. His eyes closed and the tension left his shoulders, replaced by sagging weariness. Slowly, he slid forward and pillowed his head against his elbow with a deep sigh.

Haley wanted nothing more then to reach over and wrap her arms around him. But she knew better at this point, the well meaning comfort would only be an insult. He couldn't return the gesture. Not the way he wanted...

He couldn't bring himself to hug anyone since it happened.

So she just continued holding his hand, the gentle pressure where his fingers curled around hers saying everything he couldn't

TBC...


	2. Inner Workings

_Heat. The air was thick with it...and thick with the stench of black smoke billowing from the twisted metal. Sharp, mangled, glowing in places and smoking in others, still groaning in protest as parts shifted under the brutal power of the flames. _

_Something exploded, glass shattering before the fireball that erupted. People screamed, but none so loud as the dirty redhead clawing at the two men holding her back..._

"_TOMMY!!!"_

Haley jerked awake with a cry.

Shaking hands clutched a blanket to her face as she choked on a sob. Ragged breaths came too fast to catch them. She shuddered hard, sobbing again and hating herself for it.

_Don't let him hear..._

She sucked in a quivering breath, and another, and another, till she could do it without a hitch or sob. The thick black blanket suddenly felt oppressive and Haley shoved it away, sitting up and running shaking hands through her tangled hair.

She'd fallen asleep on Tommy's couch again.

Groaning softly, she rested her elbows on her knees and wearily rubbed at her eyes. She hadn't intended to do that...

The floor creaked and she had to push her matted hair back out of her eyes to look up.

Damp skin glistening in the dim light, Tommy padded from the bathroom to the end of the hall, one hand clutching the towel around his waist. He fumbled with the bedroom doorknob and the towel slipped.

Haley averted her eyes. He would turn, see if she'd noticed. He was already self-conscious enough without her adding to it.

Modesty had never been much of an issue before. But Tommy had grown ashamed of his body and how it betrayed him.

The door clicked shut.

For a time Haley just sat...staring at his shadow moving around under the crack beneath the door, struggling with a deep seated desire to pull the blanket back over her aching head and refuse to face another day. She fingered the blanket absently. Tommy had put it there for her at some point...

He was still trying...

As much as he seemed like a different person, one she didn't know, it was still Tommy. _Her _Tommy. Thoughtful...decent...the definition of a gentleman.

Frustrated...hurting...struggling just to cope.

She allowed herself another moment of childish whimsy, then squared her shoulders and pushed off the couch. Moving into the kitchen she plugged in the toaster and started pulling pans from under the island. He couldn't give her a hard time about breakfast if it was done by the time he finally found his way in here.

When Tommy got defensive over breakfast, irritably reminding her that he could take care of himself or just refusing to let her interfere, it cast a sour tone to her entire day. He didn't understand that she needed this. It was relaxing. It was her period of Zen. It was why she owned a café.

Cooking released something inside, something that never quite unclenched until there was a spatula in one hand and a flame before her. It freed the logical part of her mind while occupying the part that worried and fretted. Let it fret over burning eggs instead of the man losing himself a little more every day.

The island, which doubled as a bar and kitchen table due to lack of space, was covered with food when Tommy finally wandered into the kitchen. The blistering glare he'd been aiming at his partially knotted tie faded into an expression of surprise as he took in all she had done, "...did I miss something?"

"Nope." Haley planted a light kiss on his cheek and he jerked back, dark eyes reflecting shock as he searched her face. Her smile was subtle and she patted his cheek in apology.

The food had worked its magic, her mood had lightened considerably and Tommy could only stare in stunned confusion as she slid onto a stool and began shoveling eggs onto a plate. "Come on, Oliver," she waved a hand over the bacon in a shooing motion as if to waft the smell towards him. "Before it gets cold."

Absently buttoning his collar, Tommy took a seat, still looking perplexed. She noted he didn't struggle with the buttons half as much when he was distracted. Or maybe he'd just been practicing.

"Why the fancy clothes?" she asked as she buttered a piece of toast for him.

"It's Tuesday."

Haley flinched, missing the toast and a swath of butter ended up on her wrist. Stupid stupid...of course it was Tuesday. She slid the toast onto his plate and reached for a napkin. How could she be so stupid?

In an instant the tension was back. It curled around her stomach and squeezed.

Haley detested Tuesdays.

She should feel guilty for that...this was for Tommy's benefit. But she was unrepentant.

It had been Anton's idea to begin with; in fact he was the one footing the bill. And she couldn't help but feel the smallest bit of resentment towards him for it. He meant well...but he wasn't here.

At first Tommy had vehemently rebelled against the idea. Haley still didn't know what the older man had said to change his former student's mind…and she'd quickly grown tired of having a verbal door slammed in her face every time she tried to ask.

Therapy.

Just the word made her feel uneasy.

Physical therapy she could deal with. It was difficult and painful but Tommy had always walked or sometimes limped away with some measure of satisfaction. Psychotherapy? It only had two possible outcomes, one of two ways Tommy would go through the rest of the day. Dark and brooding or irritable and bitchy as hell. Ether way he was impossible to live with.

She picked up her fork and put it down again, appetite gone. Tommy was hunched over his plate, apparently ignoring her. But he noticed everything. She forced herself to eat.

They ate in silence and cleared the island in silence. Haley felt an uncomfortable twinge every time she glanced in his direction. Tommy hadn't tried to shave again and the stubble was in sharp contrast with his professional clothing.

He always tried to leave a good visual impression on the shrink...as if he had something to prove.

Haley caught his arm as he walked past her from the sink, gently tugging him closer. Her hand slid down his arm and she wordlessly buttoned the cuff of his shirt. Tommy looked away when she tightened his tie.

She let her hands linger, willing him to turn back. He glanced at her but couldn't meet her eyes. It was humiliating.

She dropped her hands.

"I'll be in the jeep."


	3. Fight or Flight

For all appearances…he was completely at ease. Calm…collected. He sat back and stared impassively across the desk, barely blinking.

Appearances aren't everything.

His posture was _too _relaxed. His expression just a little too blank to be convincing. Everything about him radiated indifference.

And somehow, his counterpart matched that air of feigned interest. Closing the file she'd spent the last ten minutes studying as if he wasn't even the room, she pushed it aside and rested her chin on entwined fingers. "So…how was your week?"

Silence was her only response.

"Get out of that house at any point?"

He didn't even dignify her with a blink.

"Have you thought about when you might be comfortable having sex again?"

That earned a slight twitch of the left eye.

A ghost of a smirk crossed her face, "I see…let's talk about that for a bit. When _was _the last time you were intimate with a woman, Mr. Oliver? Or a man…we never discussed what your sexual preferences were." She clicked her pen and looked up expectantly, hand poised over a notepad.

"It's _Dr._ Oliver," he corrected in a low tone.

"Of course. How long has it been, Dr. Oliver?"

"You're assuming I've slept with anyone. Some people would find that insulting."

"Do you?"

"No."

"Hmm…" she made a note in her ledger. "Have you thought at any length about what we discussed last week?"

"Somewhat."

"And?" she prodded.

His eyes narrowed fractionally, the beginnings of a scowl. "I don't know what you expect me to do."

"It's not about what _I _expect from you, Dr. Oliver. Rather what you expect of yourself."

He snorted and went to cross his arms only to freeze halfway through the action. His face went dark and the scowl deepened. For the first time since sitting down that defiant stare broke away. He seemed to shrink in on himself, sinking deeper in the plush chair, willing to look anywhere but at her.

"This is difficult for you…" her voice dropped to a softer tone in response to his moment of humiliation.

"I'm managing." His own voice was coarse.

"Is that enough? I realize your condition forced many difficult changes on you. Many…compromises. But are you truly content to just _get by_?"

His fist clenched and she was conscious of every muscle seeming to coil in the figure across her desk. The tense silence said enough.

"Compromise doesn't have to mean failure," she urged, "And given the circumstances—"

"Why don't you say it?"

She leaned back, "Excuse me?"

"You always use these evasive terms…your condition, the situation," he scoffed, "these unfortunate circumstances?!" The deceptively level tone was caught somewhere between anger and bitter laughter. "Are you afraid I'm going to lose my cool if you actually _say it? _I'm not that damn fragile."

"I never said that you were…"

"Don't…" he gestured, looking pained, "Don't try and placate me. It's demeaning. And you don't have to _say _it. You've _implied_ from day one that you think I need to be 'handled'. I don't."

"Is that how you see it? That people are treating you as fragile?"

"No…that's how I see _you._"

"So you _don't_ think people treat you differently."

He cursed, "And _stop _putting words in my mouth! Do you have any idea how infuriating that is?!"

"I don't put words in your mouth. I'm making observations."

"Bull."

She tilted her head, "Does it bother you when strangers assume you need their help? Rushing to open doors for you…offering to move or carry things…apologizing for no reason? Do you see the pity in their eyes?"

The coil snapped. He spat something in an unfamiliar language that sounded suspiciously vulgar and made for the door.

Green eyes lazily studied the clock on the wall. "We've barely used up our hour."

"I'll apologize to Anton for wasting his money."

She leaned back and steepled her fingers. "Tell you what…why don't you send your friend in here."

"Haley?" he stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned narrowed eyes on her, "Why?"

"I believe she would have valuable insight on the situation. Don't you agree?"

Something like a growl slipped out and his gaze glinted dangerously, "Leave her out of this."

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I mean it. Don't go dragging her into this."

She studied her pen, only half watching him. "The way I see it…she's already quite involved. Of course if it makes you _that_ uncomfortable…I suppose I could settle for giving your good friend Dr. Mercer a call. He did ask to be kept appraised of your progress. Quite unethical really…but considering he is paying your bill…"

He blinked, "You wouldn't."

She raised a challenging eyebrow and used her pen to push the intercom on the far side of her desk without taking her eyes off him, "Stacey?"

"_Yes, Dr. Archer?" _The disembodied voice immediately responded, sounding metallic and distorted.

"Get me Dr. Anton Mercer's contact information."

"_A patient or colleague?"_

"Nether…look under the billing for Thomas Oliver. Just his phone number, please."

"_Of course, just a moment."_

His glare was enough to wither flowers. "This is extortion."

"Actually, its blackmail. But you were close."

"I could sue you for this."

"By all means…I'd love to hear you explain that to Mercer."

The intercom beeped, "_I have that number for you."_

She smiled sweetly, "What will it be, Dr. Oliver?"


	4. Chinks in Your Armor

Haley jerked when the door slammed, looking up as Tommy stormed into the waiting area. He passed her without a second glance.

Fumbling with her palm pilot she nearly dropped the device before she could shove it back inside her purse, forgetting all about the text message she'd been writing to the day manager of the Cyberspace.

Usually she drove to the cafe and worked for a half hour before returning to drive Tommy home. Today she'd realized that she desperately needed a few minutes of tranquility.

A large pond had been built into the far wall of the waiting area. Water bubbled out from a mound of rocks and trickled down to where koi swam beneath water lilies. Between the soothing noises of the water, warm colors decorating the walls, and the various greenery jutting from every conceivable nook and cranny, it was a very relaxing place to spend an hour.

A fist hitting the wall made her flinch.

Petals fell to the floor. Haley didn't say anything...just watched him circle the room like a caged panther. One that had just been poked repeatedly with a sharp stick and would love to claw the eyes out of the next person that got close enough.

Give it time, she told herself. It seemed like more harm then good came from these sessions. But despite herself, despite the fact that his stormy attitude was telling her otherwise, she hoped it was helping.

"She wants to see you."

Haley was taken aback, "Dr. Archer? Why?"

"Damned if I know," Tommy growled. "Fed me some crap about perspectivesI don't buy a word of it."

Haley sat back and bit her lip. The idea of talking to a psychiatrist was daunting. _Terrifying_ if she was honest with herself. Her private thoughts and hurts and struggles were exactly that, private. One of the few things that remained solely _hers_and she valued that too much to risk breaking down in front of a stranger because her nerves were frayed and her emotions raw.

"You don't have to go in if you don't want to."

The words were soft. He crouched down in front of her so he could catch her gaze.

She had to close her eyes against the sudden threat of tears. _That_ was the man she'd known...that quiet balance of strength and tenderness.

How would it look if she was too scared to face something that she'd encouraged him to continue? Would she be able to look at herself in the mirror tomorrow if she refused? Would she be able to look at him?

She opened her eyes, his concerned face staring back at her. It wasn't easy to resist the urge to reach out and touch his face. But she didn't want to risk him flinching away from it. This silent gesture of support meant the world to her.

"I'll go."

"You're sure? I can march right back in there and tell that sadist to take her meddling ways and shove them up her--"

"Tommy!" A grin tugged at her lips. "I'll be alright."

He didn't look convinced but he nodded anyway and stood, moving aside for her.

Haley took a deep breath and crossed the room. She only hesitated a moment, her hand on the knob, before slipping into the office.

The first thing she noticed was the air was considerably cooler. She shivered and tugged her sleeves down.

Dr. Archer looked up from writing something in a thick folder, "Ah, Haley, come in come in. Please, take a seat."

The door shut behind her with a loud click and another shiver raced down Haley's spine. One that had nothing to do with the cool air. She slid into the overstuffed chair facing the large oak desk. It was a daunting barrier and it struck her as very impersonal.

"Thank you for taking the time to speak with me."

"It's no, ah," Haley had to clear her suddenly dry throat, "no problem, Dr. Archer."

She pointed to a water cooler in the corner beside a couch and Haley gratefully went to get a drink. Dr. Archer waited until she was back in her seat sipping from a Styrofoam cup before opening up the file on her desk.

"Tell me about your relationship with Tommy."

"Um, well we met in college..."

"You dated."

It wasn't a question. Haley blushed, "Briefly."

"Most people don't stay so close."

"Tommy isn't most people."

"Nether are you."

Haley shifted, uncomfortable. It hadn't really occurred to her that Tommy might be talking with the shrink about _her_. She wasn't sure why.

"How would you define your relationship today?"

She looked down, watching the water swirl in her cup. "I don't know." Barely a day passed when she didn't wonder that very thing.

"I see..."

"Look, it's...it's complicated, okay? You wouldn't understand."

Dr. Archer chuckled, "You'd be surprised. Perhaps you shouldn't be so quick to assume what I can and can't do. After all, isn't that what people do to Tommy?"

That was a slap in the face.

Haley tried not to be offended at the insinuation but it was hard. That had stung. Badly. But she wasn't one of the people who assumed things about Tommy. She didn't have to... "I know what he's capable of."

"I never said you didn't," the other woman soothed. It had the opposite effect. Haley could feel herself growing more defensive and was helpless to stop it.

"You're one of the few individuals that are truly close to Tommy right now...so in your semi-professional opinion, how is he dealing with his handicap?"

"He's not handicapped."

Dr. Archer flashed an indulgent smile, "I can appreciate your desire to defend him, Haley, but he is. Severely. And I know you know that, so don't insult your intelligence for my sake." She glanced at her file, "Let me come to the point of why I asked to speak with you. I understand that Tommy was a martial artist from a very young age...I hope you realize that has become deeply ingrained in his personality."

Haley bristled. This woman had no right to lecture _her_on the fact Tommy was a fighter. She had no idea. "I'm aware of that." She knew her tone was icy but couldn't bring herself to care.

The therapist gave her a frank look, "He approaches our sessions like a verbal sparring match. At first he doesn't respond at all…like he's getting a feel for his opponent. When he does answer my questions it's curt and often sarcastic. A few "experimental punches" if you will. It's only when I start to dig deeper that he lets lose and starts to fight me. But in this arena I'm the better fighter. He's in such a foul mood because his pride took a beating." She smirked, "I'm sure if we were to argue science or dinosaurs he could leave here feeling quite smug. But that's not the point, is it?"

"I don't..."

"Why do you think he keeps coming back? Because Dr. Mercer is paying for it? Come now Haley, we both know he's not that shallow. He comes back every week because he needs to fight _something._"

Haley was stunned. She'd never considered...

Why hadn't she thought of this sooner? She was the one who was supposed to know him the best but she felt like a megazord had just sucker punched her. How was she supposed to respond to that?

Dr. Archer spoke for her, idly spinning her pen on manicured nails. "Look, I have no problem with being Tommy's sparring partner. We could do this dance every week and that might just be enough to keep him satisfied. But I took this job to help people, not for the very substantial paycheck I take home. He _does_need to talk through all the frustration he's got bottled up and we can't do that if he insists on fighting me." She leaned closer, "You want to help him too, yes?"

Haley nodded.

"Then find him something else to fight."

Haley was quiet, weighing her options. "Me."

"No." Steel entered the other woman's voice, "You're probably the only thing that hasn't drastically changed through all of this. Don't take that away. Not yet...your role is still to vital."

"My role?"

"Just being there for him." Dr. Archer sighed and glanced past Haley to the door before focusing back on her with renewed intensity. "Tommy's a man...and they're wired differently then us women. They'd rather mull over a problem in the privacy of their own head then talk through it. While we feel the need to be loved in a deeply profound way...Tommy needs to know that he is _respected_. Struggling just to perform menial tasks has shaken him down to the very definition of what he believes it means to be a man. I doubt he'll ever actually _say_how much he appreciates you. But he does. Intensely."

Haley looked away...feeling an unwanted heat creeping up her cheeks.

Dr. Archer smiled at her, a knowing twinkle lighting her eyes, "Whether you realize it or not, he's still fiercely protective of you. Just the idea of bringing you in here was enough to get a fire sparking in that mockingly blank stare of his." She tilted her head, "That's something I'm guessing you've been searching for, for quite some time."

Tears were even more unwanted. Haley swiped at them in more embarrassment then anger.

Dr. Archer pulled a box of tissues from behind her desk and pushed them towards her. "Never be ashamed to cry, Haley. Tommy holds it back because he doesn't want to appear weak. And you define strength through Tommy. But tears mean you can still feel pain...it says you're still alive."

So she did cry. Hard.

TBC...


	5. Downhill Fast

The box of tissues was more or less gone by the time Haley shook hands with Dr. Archer and slipped back into the waiting area.

She'd done exactly what she'd been afraid of…broke down and spilled her guts to a complete stranger.

It hadn't fixed a damn thing. Tommy would still be the same unbearably moody man he'd been since God only knew when. She was exhausted, her eyes still burned, and there wasn't a scrap of chocolate nearby to console herself with.

But ironically she felt better. Drained but…better.

She found Tommy sitting with his head resting against the wall, eyes closed. Apparently the peacefulness of this room was enough to sooth anybody.

Haley wandered over to the koi pond and sat on the edge. She let her fingers brush the surface of the water. A large speckled fish nibbled at them then darted away with a splash.

"Are you alright?"

She turned. Tommy still leaned against the wall but he was watching her. His face lacked any expression and she'd be lying if she tried to say it wasn't unsettling. But she was used to that feeling even if she wasn't quite used to his blank stare. "I'm fine."

He kept staring. Haley waited for any whisper of emotion…narrowed eyes or a twitch of the lips. There was none.

She sighed, "Let's go."

The ride home was just as silent as the trip to the psychiatrist's office. Haley's thoughts were spinning around everything Dr. Archer had told her.

Find him something else to fight…

Well that was easy enough to say. Not quite so easy in practice.

She wondered what Tommy was thinking about. She stole glances at his reflection in the passenger side window as he watched Reefside rush past them.

A horn blared behind them and Tommy went pale and pulled away from the window. Haley leaned on her own horn, glaring daggers at the red minivan in her rearview, "Asshole!"

Tommy pulled her hand off, "Stop."

The minivan sped past them on the shoulder, its elderly driver honking again and giving Haley the finger. Tommy squeezed his eyes closed and leaned back into his seat so hard it creaked. His knees hit the dashboard and he swore at the instinct to curl up.

"Breathe, Tommy. We're ok--"

"Don't!" he snapped. "Just drive."

Her fingers clenched around the wheel.

Tommy reached out and turned on the radio, but his hand was shaking. She wanted desperately to help, but what could she do if he kept snapping every time she tried?

They stewed in their own silence until muffled strains of techno music drifted from the backseat, clashing horribly with the Bon Jovi tune playing on the radio. Haley uttered a quiet oath went to reach for her cell. That was Julia's ringtone, one of her girls at the café.

She paused. While perfectly capable of using her cell and driving at the same time, she wasn't sure it was such a good idea after Tommy's little episode just moments ago.

Haley returned her hand to the wheel. "Could you answer that for me, please?"

He frowned but obligingly groped around behind him for her purse. He dropped it on his lap and stared at it with a baffled look, "Where…"

"There's a pocket on the side there. It's a _purse_ Tommy, it won't bite you."

"Until the evil space witch turns it into a monster…" he grumbled.

She hid a grin behind a cough and ignored the glower he sent her as he fished out the phone and flipped it open, "Haley's phone, state your business. …I know who you are, Julia. …well would I be the one answering if she could talk? …_driving _if you must know. …no…I'd really rather she didn't. …Julia, just tell me what you need. …yes we established the fact you need to talk to Haley but…what? …wait…jul---hey calm…calm do—slow down!"

He muffled the phone against his shoulder and whispered, "Is this kid qualified to be in charge?"

"Normally, yes. She must be upset…find out what's wrong."

He grunted and went back to listening to the high pitched babbling she could dimly hear streaming from the cell.

"Well?"

He gave a lopsided shrug and nearly dropped the phone, "I don't know…something about a delivery, I think. She's not making a whole lot of sense."

Haley sighed, "Do you mind if we swing by the Cyberspace?"

He winced at a particularly loud wail, jerking the phone away from his ear. "I think you had better."

"Julia!" She called, hoping the girl could hear. Tommy held the phone out. "I'll be there in ten minutes! Okay?" She thought she caught a "Hurry!" before he closed the phone.

The only thing that stopped her from pulling an immediate and highly illegal U-turn was a rather strong aversion to giving Tommy a heart attack on top of everything else. Haley reflected on all the ways she hated Tuesday's while she tried to subtly speed without her passenger noticing.

She'd managed to shave two minutes off by the time they pulled into her reserved parking spot. Before the front door even swung closed behind them Julia was dragging her into the back room, seeming to not even take a breath while informing her of all the ways their "way cute but totally brainless delivery boy" had "totally screwed them over big time".

Her kitchen, her sanctuary, looked like an army of pastel colored monsters had met their grisly end all over her floor. Gallons upon gallons of ice cream littered the normally pristine surface, rapidly melting in the California heat that poured through the loading door propped open by soggy boxes of, guess what, even more ice cream.

Haley gave herself credit for only freezing in horror for a few seconds. Her mind raced…trash was picked up on Wednesdays and the dumpsters outside would be overflowing by this point in the week…nowhere to put it all. She turned to the freezer but Julia shook her head "It's already packed full!"

Yup…Tuesdays royally _sucked!_

So while Julia tried to sweep the expanding puddle out the door with a broom, the boldest of her mostly teenaged customers rolled up their sleeves…and started eating.

Haley spent two hours on the phone arguing with the delivery kid's boss, just about screaming at that guy's boss, trading snide comments with a snippy secretary to get _his _boss' number so she could proceed to rip him a new one only to be passed off to the HR department who couldn't quite grasp she was a pissed off client and not a disgruntled employee.

After a few threats akin to legal action she managed to speak to the owner directly and proceeded to tell him, in very colorful language, exactly what she thought of his company, his employees, his mother, and his sexual preferences when livestock was involved.

She figured Dr. Archer would probably tell her she was taking her frustrations at Tommy out on a convenient target…

Dr. Archer could kiss her ass when there was a giant, sticky, soon to be smelly, mess all over her cafe.

Only after swallowing three Tylenol did she feel sane enough to crawl out from her office. And start to feel some gnawing concern over Tommy.

He didn't frequent the café anymore. Too many of his students hung out here, too many questions and too many memories. And she'd dumped him here, right in the middle of where he didn't want to be, leaving him to face the discomfort alone. Haley chewed at her lip and scanned the throngs of people with their tubs of ice cream. Maybe he couldn't take it and went for a walk…maybe…

There he was…at one of the computers.

Haley maneuvered her way through the people to the obscure corner he'd tucked himself into. Tommy didn't react when she sagged against the back of his chair and rested her forehead on the top of his head. She was exhausted and the day wasn't even half over yet.

He tilted his head back, staring up at her. "Bad day?"

"Bad day," she agreed, nose almost touching his when she nodded.

She lazily debated closing the distance between them and just as slowly let the idea fade away. Her head ached enough without adding an aching heart.

Tommy turned his attention back to the computer screen and she leaned over his shoulder, "Is that Adam's new webpage?"

"Mmhmm."

"The dojo looks nice…"

He clicked on another picture without commenting.

"Will you be alright out here?"

"Fine. This place suffers enough because of me…don't let me keep you from it when there's a crises."

She rubbed at her eyes, "I'm not sure I want to go back there just yet…"

Tommy clicked on a training video in a not so subtle hint that he would be ignoring her now. "Whatever's waiting you can handle it. That's what you do…you fix things."

_Not everything…_she added silently, watching him struggle to untangle the wire for the computer's headphones. Not everything…


	6. Sentimental Values

Once again Haley jerked awake to the disconcerting sensation of waking up somewhere other then her own bed. Blearily peering around the dark room lit only by the plasma screen TV, she strained to get her fuzzy mind to recall why she was on a couch in the Cyberspace.

Her palms were raw and her back and knees ached...she was wearing a ratty sweatshirt that smelled faintly of Pine Sol...

Right...the ice-cream catastrophe. She'd spent all day on her hands and knees, at war with the sticky mess that somehow managed to work itself into every conceivable corner of her kitchen. No wonder she was so sore...

Haley rolled over, searching out Tommy as last night's events caught up to her.

It had been late...they'd ordered in Thai. The white cartons of rice noodles and seafood curry still littered the tables along with the accounts she'd been trying to balance. Apparently they both fell asleep during that Discovery Channel special on Terra Venture.

Tommy was sprawled in one of the LazyBoy recliners, one leg dangling over the arm and a half eaten bowl of chocolate ice-cream resting on his stomach. She smiled a bit. He'd melted into the background until the café cleared out for the night...an inconspicuous shadow, letting her get the chaos under control without adding to it himself.

And when they were finally alone...Haley half wondered if she'd dreamed the easy, companionable quiet between them. Not the awkward silence she'd grown so familiar with. There was a subtle but profound difference between not knowing what to say...and not needing to say anything. She missed having that balance.

Haley slowly wandered closer to the recliner...watching Tommy sleep.

There had been a moment...over dinner. Tommy had been struggling to use the chopsticks sent over with the food...only managing to eat one or two noodles at a time. Finally he pushed his chair back with a sigh and went to get a fork.

It took him twenty-one years to figure out how to use chopsticks the right way. Something he _never_admitted. Apparently it was shameful for a martial artist not to grasp something so elementally Asian. She only knew his dirty little secret because she happened to be there the moment it finally clicked and he lit up like a Christmas tree. "It's just like a pencil!" he'd exclaimed, gleefully working them back and forth.

Now he was going to have to learn all over again.

Haley smoothed Tommy's rumpled hair away from his face. She didn't often get to see him so peaceful.

It was troubling for her...seeing him relaxed. Lines of tension and fatigue that should have smoothed out with sleep still remained. They were permanent features now. And oh how she wished that she could pretend all those scars were from shaving...

Tommy shifted in his sleep and she snatched up the bowl of melted ice-cream before it could tilt. She was quite done with ice-cream related messes, thank you very much Dr. Oliver.

Haley backed away...unwilling to wake him yet. But he shifted again and mumbled something unintelligible. His face scrunched briefly and the tossing and incoherent muttering continued.

"Carter..."

Haley nearly dropped the bowl. _That_she made out just fine. And she almost wished she didn't.

It shouldn't startle her...shouldn't make an ice cold knot twist in her stomach. If she was still having nightmares about it then why had she hoped that...but she thought...he'd said he was...

Breathing a curse Haley turned away and started to gather up the remains of their dinner. Only to throw up her hands in thwarted irritation a few minutes later. Tommy would no doubt want this for breakfast since he treated Asian cuisine like many people did cold pizza

Her own stomach rumbled and she picked out a thick noodle before stalking into the kitchen and throwing the ice cream bowl into the oversized sink. Haley was back through the double doors before they even finished swinging and she headed straight for the espresso machines.

Inhaling deeply from a new bag of grounds, she felt some fraction of that knot ease as her body seemed absorb the blessed caffeine through scent alone. And soon the tantalizing aroma of Jamaican Mocha Blend would complete the task of waking Tommy up for her.

She hated to leave him in a nightmare...but the possibility of repeating the last time she woke him out of one was even less appealing.

Haley left the machine to warm up and wandered through the café, checking that she'd remembered to turn everything off last night, trying to look anywhere but at Tommy's fitfully slumbering form. It was just as well, with her mind on other things, several computers had been left on. She just couldn't seem to keep that blasted electrical bill down...

She wiggled the mouse and was mildly surprised to see a picture of Adam Park in mid-jump kick. Haley sat down and backed the page up. And back...and back some more.

Tommy had explored every inch of Adam's website. Every picture, video, mission statement, schedule, biography, and upcoming tournament. No link left unclicked, no PDF file unopened. Like he was hungry for it, starving even.

She leaned back in the rolling chair and chewed at her lip. Hungry for what? The sport he left behind or the friends he pushed away?

She brought up the computer's recent history and tried not to feel like she was invading his privacy.

It appeared that he'd also checked his E-mail, a handful of myspace pages she recognized as belonging to former rangers, and Reefside High's website. Curious, she brought that one up.

It stole her breath away. A teacher had suffered a stroke in the middle of a pep rally...

No wonder there has been so many teens here so early in the day...

She should have known...should have talked to them about it. This was more then a café...it was meant to be a sanctuary. She'd fallen so far behind in keeping up with all of their lives...she barely knew half her clientele by name anymore. Much less what they were going through or needed help with.

How many people still knew she was the "Haley" in Haley's Cyberspace?

It said a lot about how her time got delegated...if she had to ask herself that question.

Haley glanced behind her...Tommy's leg hung over one side of the recliner, the top of his head just visible, resting on the other side. It seemed he'd finally settled down. Her eyes wandered back to the computer screen and she felt an odd tug inside. Pulled in two different directions...

It wasn't the first time she'd sacrificed something for Tommy. After all...she hadn't gone to MIT for the hell of it. But she'd turned down a promising career to help her friend prepare for a war.

The café symbolized all of that and more. It was her way of showing Tommy she was in for the long haul. It was a new passion...something _she_could fight for. It was a way to make a difference on a personal level. It was her_sanctuary. _More then that...it was simply _hers._

_Her_identity..._her_battleground..._her_home.

And she was letting the connection fade out. Maybe not consciously...but willingly. Everything the café meant to her...

Tommy meant more.

Haley looked around at the pristine tables she didn't polish, the stage that would host music she didn't recognize surrounded by people she didn't know...and she regretted none of it. Because Tommy meant more.


	7. headesk

The morning passed in something of a blur.

Tommy rolled off the recliner when the espresso machine hissed and stumbled to the counter, grunting something that might have passed for a greeting if they were from some primitive South American tribe.

He'd picked up a slight limp from sleeping so contorted...when she made a comment about it he just growled and poured himself another cup of coffee. So Haley ignored him until the heavily caffeinated brew improved his disposition.

They dug into the leftover Thai then headed out before Julia could arrive and make any suggestive comments about them spending the night. Teenagers...

Haley dropped Tommy off at home and headed to her apartment for a much needed shower. And clothes that didn't come from her stash at the café or Tommy's guest room.

In all fairness it had been _her_ room since back when they started construction on the lair. And truthfully, most of the time it felt more like home then her own bedroom. But for some indefinable reason she could never seem to call it hers. Maybe because to do so would be crossing an unspoken line in their relationship...

Whatever the hell _that _was.

Haley wiped the condensation off her bathroom mirror and stared at her reflection, steam rising off her wet skin.

She lived with the man but she didn't...they fought like they were married but they weren't...she stayed close to offer help but he didn't want any...

When did her life get so complicated? Every aspect seemed like yet another study in working contradictions. Haley wondered...if she really tried, she could probably trace it all back to the day she met Tommy Oliver.

She shoved those thoughts away. No use dwelling. Two days worth of stress and grime were washed away and there was a fleece sweater in her closet just waiting to be snuggled into. That was enough for now.

She quickly changed and pulled her hair back to let it air dry. Today was not a day to worry about style. This was a day for jeans and a cup of hot chocolate. Tiny little comforts where they could be found.

When you had to tackle one day, one mountain, hell one hour at a time just to stay sane...you quickly learned to find solace in the smallest of moments. To savor what the average person might being moving too fast to even notice. A smile that came from genuine humor...a touch that could linger without tension...

It was a good skill to posses; Haley reflected as she curled up in front of her computer and blew at her mug of cocoa to cool it. And she could be grateful for that at least.

Something had been nagging at the back of her mind since this morning...something she couldn't quite put a finger on. Like an itch you couldn't quite reach it distracted her as she drove and kept her from fully enjoying the hot water pounding against her sore back. Haley was just going to go back to Adam's website when her house phone rang.

She closed her eyes. Everyone knew to call her cell phone to get in touch with her. Everyone knew she spent too much time rushing between her apartment, the café, and Tommy's house to hope to catch her here. Everyone but her mother.

Moment gone.

Haley tried to ignore it; she didn't want to deal with her mother's deliberate pig-headedness right now...rehashing the same old disagreements. She just wanted to sit for a _minute_in solitary peace, check her mail, and drink her hot chocolate. Was a minute too much to ask for?

The flashing red light she just now noticed saying she already had five unheard messages on her answering machine told her that yes, actually, it _was_ too much to ask.

Haley didn't even bother to check the caller ID when she snatched up the phone. "What do you want, mom?"

"_Haley where have you been? I've been going out of my mind! Don't you check your messages anymore?"_

"I was out."

"_All night?!"_

"Mom...don't start."

"_I was worried about you."_

Haley pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the beginnings of a familiar migraine. One named Helen Sanford. "Ok, first of all...you stopped needing to track my every move about eight years ago."

"_I'm not trying to—"_

"Second of all," she interrupted, "I can't even begin to say how many times I've told you...if you want to talk to me, _call my cell phone. _Honestly mother, what is so hard about that? I even programmed the number into your phone's speed dial last Christmas. All you have to do is push a button."

"_You should be home often enough to take a simple phone call." _

"Well I'm _not._" Haley didn't try to stop the aggravation from bleeding into her voice. "There's nothing _simple_about my life right now. You should realize I have more important things to do then worry about who might be calling my stupid landline. Which is why we have_cell phones."_

"_The phone isn't the issue here, Haley."_

Damn straight it's not...

"_Why were you out all night?"_

"I was with Tommy." Not that it's any of your business...

There was a long silence on the other end. Haley started to hope her mother might actually leave things alone just this once…

"_Tell me the truth, Haley...are you sleeping with him?"_

"What?! Oh God..."

Haley let her head hit the desk with an audible -_thunk-_. She did _not_ just go there…

_-thunk-_

_-thunk-_

_-thunk thunk thunk-_

Percussion therapy not working. The voice on the phone was still speaking and Haley reluctantly pulled the device closer, rubbing her head and hoping someone somewhere would take pity on her and strike the nearest telephone pole with an extra crispy bolt of lightning.

"—_throwing your life away. You completely ignore your hard earned education with no explanation why and open some...some coffee shop...now you spend every waking minute with that man..."_

""That man's" name is Tommy and I do not spend every minute with him. But I'm there and I will continue to be there when _Tommy_ needs my help. We've been over this a hundred times, mother. Nothing's changed."

"_But why _you_? Couldn't someone else--"_

"I chose to be here."

"_But you could have done so much more..._been_so much more."_

"Goodbye mother."

"_Haley wait..."_

"No. You have to start respecting my decisions whether you agree with them or not."

"_I only want what's best for you, baby.'_

"But you don't get to decide what that is. It's my call. And for the record...I may sleep in Tommy's house but I don't share his bed. I expect you not to have faith in me...but don't insult _his_ honor."

She set the phone back in its cradle with a soft click. Her head hit the desk again.


	8. Absence

Haley wasn't able to relax again after hanging up on her mother. She tried. She finished her hot chocolate and checked her mail, both electronic and what was piled on the floor under her mail slot. She even tried to read a book she hadn't touched in months.

She gave up. Got in her car and drove back to Tommy's.

The sun sparkled down through the treetops and Haley shielded her eyes from the glare as she wearily climbed out of her car. It was turning into one of those deceptively cheery days without a cloud in the sky, birds singing in the light breeze…

It was so much easier to be miserable when it was raining. The world was made up of morbid grays and no one questioned it. But days like this made you feel like you should be happy.

Haley dropped her head and aimed a mental curse at the sun and the birds and the breeze and the flowers too for good measure. Damn them all for giving her guilt on top of gloominess. She scuffed her shoe against the walkway in a rather juvenile display of irritation and ended up tearing out a chunk of grass.

She stopped and stared at what she had done. There wasn't supposed to be grass in the walk but there it was...bright green poking through the stones. Haley regarded the lawn itself as if for the first time even though she walked on it every day. It had grown tall and quite unattractive. She wondered if Tommy would mind her mowing it.

No, he'd probably get upset and assume she didn't think he could do it. She knew he could, they'd bought a riding mower a long time ago. She really only wanted something physical to do. Something to burn off the twitchiness that wasn't letting her unwind.

Haley turned slowly, looking over the lawn again, making a full circle. Tommy left most of his extensive property natural and untamed, but there had always been a clearing around the house. No plants. No shrubs, no wildflowers, no trees until you reached the gnarled Charlie Brown-esque sycamore stubbornly clinging to life. Just grass kept trimmed with an almost obsessive frequency.

Jason had noticed it immediately the first time he came to inspect his bro's new digs. He'd laughed, clapped Tommy on the shoulder, and asked who he thought was going to attack him.

Of course at the time Jason hadn't known there was another war on the horizon...but what he said stuck with Haley. The carefully maintained perimeter _did _make it impossible for anyone to approach the house without being seen.

But now the whole area had become overgrown. It wasn't as if Tommy could use hedge clippers anymore. And even though the war was long over, he'd been fighting for so long that the absence of his safety zone had to bother him. And Haley doubted _that_ever came up in his therapy.

It would be good for him to get back _something_. But...it would also mean they'd have to get the mower working.

Haley's heart sank. She couldn't remember the last time he'd touched the beast of a machine.

She'd never really understood his fascination with tinkering with it. It was disproportionally inefficient for its ridiculous size, took up most of the garage forcing everyone park in the driveway, and from the moment he brought it home she'd wanted nothing more then to tear it apart and build something sleeker, faster, and not as prone to belch noxious smoke.

But to her constant aggravation Tommy had rebuffed her itching fingers at every turn. He'd relished the never ending battle between man and crappy machine. A pristine lawn wasn't just borderline paranoia for Jason to poke fun at, it was a victory against his nemeses.

He only stopped after…when it became too much of a struggle. He avoided the garage as much as the lair. Just the sight of it was enough to remind Tommy that a damned mower now had more dignity then him.

So which would inflict more damage on him? Being forced into facing another fight he'd lost or living with a subtle but constant reminder of it?

She was still standing on the path, torn over what to do, when someone came jogging out of the woods behind her. She spun around with a gasp, one hand over her suddenly racing heart. "Tommy!" She hadn't even realized that he wasn't in the house.

He eyed her as he leaned against her car and rubbed his calf. "Haley...thought you were going home."

"I did."

"Hmm." He stretched against the same leg and Haley realized he must have gone for a run to try and work out the stiffness from this morning. A long one by the look of the sweat drenching his clothes.

He straightened and brushed past her on his way up the path, "I'm taking a shower."

"Wait!"

Tommy stopped and slowly turned, facing her with a blank stare.

He had twitched, hesitated, like he'd wanted to cross his arms then caught himself. Haley had to swallow hard before daring to speak. "Would you…um…want to work on the yard?"

His eyes flicked around the area, "Why?"

"It's kind of overgrown. I was thinking we could...take care of the lawn and maybe get rid of this mess growing around the house."

"Why?" he repeated, not bothering to change his tone in the slightest.

She hesitated, "It's...a nice day…you're already kind of dirty..."

Tommy lifted a single eyebrow and stared. He wasn't going to repeat himself a third time.

Haley hung her head, why did he have to be so damn perceptive? She could spin a forty page thesis on why quantum mechanics dictated that now was the most advantageous time for yard work and he'd still be staring at her with that same raised brow...

"My mother called," she admitted with a sigh.

He studied her for a moment then nodded, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll get the mower."

Haley blinked as he turned and walked to the garage. That was it? Just…okay? She shook herself and ran after him, only slowing enough to give her eyes a second to adjust to the dim light.

What had just happened? Tommy had gone from disinterested to efficiently checking the engine on the old rider in less then a minute. She watched him fuss over it and scratched her head.

She was definitely missing something here. Something important.

Tommy kicked the nearest tire with a particularly colorful oath and snatched a monkey wrench off the work bench. If the heat of his glare could melt the rust holding the gas cap captive he wouldn't have needed to struggle with tightening the wrench.

She jerked slightly, realizing she'd been staring. He was ignoring her but that didn't mean the attention wasn't making him uncomfortable. So she pushed her way through a mass of spider webs and gathered up an armload of landscaping tools, venturing back into the sunlight.

Soon weeds met their violent end, twisted to shreds by the dull hedge clippers. But only half of Haley's focus was actually on the grueling task. She puzzled over the sounds of banging metal coming from the garage.

It wasn't that she _wanted_ toargue with him. She was just so used to always needing to justify every little action and suggestion. And one about a subject as touchy as that blasted mower? She'd expected that he would go cold, pull inward. Enough that she'd come a breath away from letting the idea die.

Yet there he was grunting and cursing and straining to tighten a fuel line by the sounds of his muttering.

Why?

The answer didn't come to her until the sputtering engine finally roared to life, sending a plume of dust and smoke shooting out of the garage and turning Tommy's victorious shout into a coughing fit.

He rode it down the driveway a few seconds later, making a few experimental turns around her car then facing the overgrown lawn with narrow eyed determination. Haley's own gaze narrowed fractionally when he passed her.

As soon as it stopped being about him, became about helping her, _that_was when he was moved to action.

She leaned against the clippers and stared at his back.

Maybe that was it…the key to finding him something else to fight…


	9. Three Steps Back

Haley aimed angry thoughts to wherever her mother happened to be at the moment.

She'd wanted to relax today…maybe sleep in her own bed. But here she was, showering at Tommy's house again and wondering if she'd ever get the grass stains out of her sweater.

Yard work had been a stupid idea.

No…she corrected herself, leaning against the cold tiles and shivering as the nearly scalding water rained down. It had been a good idea. And it surprised her to admit but Tommy seemed genuinely relaxed after showing his lawn who was still the boss. That was well worth a lost day on her part.

But wrestling with stubborn weeds and bushes hadn't been the smartest way for her to treat an already sore back. A hot shower was not going to fix it this time. The pains shooting up her spine and through her shoulders as she toweled off and pulled on her clothes were like little mocking voices reminding her how she could never catch a break.

It just wasn't possible to have a normal day anymore, was it?

She grinned a bit at that. Normal. Such a funny word. Normal used to be lurking in an underground bunker, waiting for some half dinosaur experiment gone wrong to launch an attack with cybernetic or genetically backwards engineered monsters who any passerby would think had gotten lost on their way to a drunken Halloween party.

Haley wondered if it made her a terrible person to prefer that to what her normal was these days. She rubbed at her arms as she padded down the stairs, suddenly cold. God, what did it say about her if it was easier to handle the twisted scheming of a deranged villain then the man who was currently clattering around in the kitchen?

Her steps faltered and she sat down hard, gripping the banister.

This was what it came down to? _Mesogog's _company was preferable to Tommy's?

Haley hugged herself and bit back a sob. What was wrong with her? Bad enough to entertain thoughts that terrible…_unforgivable_ for them to be true!

The silence of the house pressed in on her as she sat trembling on the stairs, reminding her why it was true. The silence. It was intolerable.

Back when the oppressive awareness of approaching warfare was still looming over them, there always seemed to be too much to prepare for and never enough time to do it all. But even with their focus that narrow, they had still talked. Even if it was only snatches of banter over the takeout they'd lived on.

But when Tommy first came home from the hospital he was quiet, withdrawn. It was unlike the amiable man she knew and it unnerved her.

Haley tried to compensate for it, tried to draw him out with conversation. But he hadn't wanted to talk. If she had stopped prodding him long enough she might have noticed that all Tommy wanted was the chance to be alone with his own thoughts. To process what had happened and figure out where his place in the world now resided.

But she kept trying to fill the void between them and he kept backing away and the distance only grew. Eventually she ran out of words.

Haley had no one to blame for the silence but herself.

Her eyes stung with tears. Haley wiped them with her sleeve and crawled back to her feet. She crept down the hall with her arms still firmly wrapped around herself, shoulders hunched and aching because of it. But she couldn't bring herself to uncurl from the downtrodden posture. Not even as she raided the medicine cabinet.

She poked her head into the kitchen warily, unsure if it was worth intruding for a glass of water to wash down the Tylenol fisted in her hand. Tommy was a disjointed chef, wandering from one task to another much like a child with ADD. It took her a minute to figure out he was marinating the steaks she'd brought home Monday.

Surprisingly they used to work well together because of his indecisive habits. He was erratic, she was deliberate. They complimented each other rather then driving each other mad. At least they used to. Now she wondered…

Haley shook her head, determined to be rid of those thoughts, focusing instead on Tommy's clean clothes and wet hair. Just how slow had she been moving if he had already showered and started dinner?

She leaned against the doorframe and just watched him.

It was hard…every simple task. Just pouring oil over a sadly wilted salad was a test of balance and timing. And considering how this had gone the last time he tried to make them a meal…

But Tommy never was one to give up. He'd keep trying…keep fighting against what held him back. Like Dr. Archer said, it was ingrained…it was who Tommy was. And that was part of the problem.

He was so determined not to admit defeat…to prove he could still do this. Still have a life…

Tommy hissed and dropped the lemon he'd been squeezing over the salad.

In an instant, Haley was in the kitchen, reaching for him. He turned away…face tense, hand curled protectively against his chest.

With effort, Haley forced herself to pick up the lemon first; throwing it in the trash even as her racing heart screamed wildly for her to be at his side. It refused to be calm after the moment of panic. She took a steadying breath, "Tommy?"

He looked so…entirely past frustration. To the point where he was ether going to scream or burst into tears. Like he was two seconds away from putting his fist through a wall. But he just screwed his eyes shut and pressed his hand a little tighter.

Haley took a step towards him and hesitated. When he didn't react she took another. It was just a lemon…why…

And then it came back to her. The broken plate…the cut on his hand…

Out of sight, out of mind. He'd discarded the bandage yesterday, probably in the shower, and his pride still stung too much for him to even think about asking her to rebind the injury. Even if it was unhealed and unprotected.

And she'd forgotten all about it.

Now she wanted to scream too. At him…at herself.

Haley forced herself to take a deep breath, feeling it catch against the scream. Her hands fisted, nails biting sharply into her palms, eyes burning from the force of holding them so tightly clenched.

Control was slow in coming. She swallowed hard, picturing the helpless shriek sliding down her throat to join the sick feeling in her stomach. It took too long for her body to unclench. But she had to before she could approach Tommy and know she wasn't going to strike him. Had to force her fists open and let the tension bleed out of her shoulders…out of every limb…

Haley felt weak in its absence, her knees not quite ready to support her, and she swayed slightly. She steadied herself against the counter, lifted her chin with confidence she didn't feel. She took another steadying breath and reached for Tommy's arm.

As soon as her hand closed around his…it was like time rewound and they were back to Monday. Back to broken plates and failed attempts at living. Defeat. Stony fractured silence and pained eyes that would never meet hers.

The peaceful night at the Cyberspace, the small but precious victory with the yard, any sense of progress at all was rendered completely meaningless. Eclipsed by the bits of dirt and motor grease she needed to clean out of the cut because he couldn't do it himself.


	10. Don't Close Your Eyes

_Everything was white…_

_White, blurry, and painfully bright. _

_She hated this place. The need to run screamed inside her. Run…hide…get away from the suffocating whiteness. _

_But she couldn't leave him. Couldn't leave…them…_

_Too much white... _

_White walls…a white bed with white sheets…white bandages…  
_  
_Too many of them.  
_  
_Tommy was there…somewhere. All those bandages…that bed…someone beside him…someone…in red. Bright red that stood alone against the all consuming white._

_The blurriness gradually receded from the color until everything shifted into focus. _

_Jason stood beside Tommy's hospital bed. He held himself so stiff his entire frame was starting to tremble. His fists clenched but there was nothing here to fight and a look of helplessness flashed across his face. _

_Tommy's eyes were dark with pain but still sharp. He didn't have the strength to lever himself up but he caught Jason's gaze and held it steady, "This isn't going to change anything, bro. I won't let it. Understand?" _

_The red ranger hesitated, then nodded…some of the angry tension finally bleeding away. _

0-0-0-0-0

Haley blinked up at the ceiling. A small tingle ran down her spine at the expanse of white paint staring down at her, some part of the dream still lingering.

The sheets rustled as she shifted, one hand seeking the pillow she'd overturned in her sleep and clutching it to her stomach. She felt no urge to get up.

Each soft and steady tick of the wall clock dared her to either roll over and check the time or throw her pillow at it to silence the temptation. Her brain was wired to jumpstart itself every morning the moment it grasped the time…planning and adjusting the day's tasks accordingly and with lightning speed.

No speed. Not today. Not when the dream hadn't shattered around her. It had simply…faded. In and out. No painful shards of memory to avoid…instead they were as if white feathers had floated down and were now gathered on her sheets.

So just a few minutes…just a few precious minutes in bed with sleep only a few tired blinks away if she decided to go there. Mornings like this were so rare.

There was a time when her dreaming had been whimsical. There was a time when she had simply _dreamed. _But that time was long past. Now, what came to her while she slept couldn't be called dreams. They were just memories. Tragic events she never worked through in her waking world so they replayed in her sleeping one.

Haley continued to lie on her back, blinking dully upwards. There was no peace to be found, no escape. Not even in sleep. No chance to dream of a different life…one where it never happened.

Maybe it was better this way.

If she were able to dream, truly dream, the way a healthy person should…if she had a nightly escape to a world where Tommy was whole and they were happy and maybe whatever was between them actually made sense…

How much harder would waking up be?

She didn't know if she could handle reality wrenching back into place every time she opened her eyes. To be given a measure of hope...and then feel it curl up and die with the realization of _it was only a dream_.

Haley rolled onto her side and hugged her pillow. Dreaming was overrated anyway. Better to remember what it is you're waking up to. Better for there to be no question.

She didn't have to worry about memories fading. Not when they replayed nearly every night. It kept them sharp and she remembered that day, when Jason came to the hospital, with absolute clarity.

Still it didn't mean she understood what transpired any more now then when she'd been there, lurking in the nonexistent shadows, completely unnoticed by the two men speaking in some sort of code she wasn't privy to.

That sounded ridiculous even in her head so she'd never said it aloud. But back in that hospital room, when everything was still far too raw, she'd held onto to that idea. Desperate to rationalize their exchange before she demanded what the hell was wrong with them in a screaming tearful rage of shredded nerves.

Tommy was the one who…the one in the hospital bed. But _he _was the one comforting _Jason. _

Somehow, and here all her knowledge of how the universe worked was completely turned on its head because natural laws stopped applying and _somehow, _Jason was in more pain then Tommy.

It wasn't right.

She liked Jason…but she resented him for that day. It was _his _job to say everything was going to be okay. Not the other way around. And dammit she'd needed someone to say it was going to be okay. Someone who wasn't Tommy. She couldn't believe it when Tommy said it. How could she look at him and think…

Haley blinked against the tears and squeezed her pillow tighter, tucking her head to press it into the down stuffed fabric.

Jason got to have hope.

It wasn't right and it wasn't fair.

And it was childish to begrudge him. Haley was self aware enough to recognize that flaw in herself. Just one of many, like her sharp jealousy towards the former red for still being able to take Tommy at his word.

Her jaw wobbled in the pillow. She should get up. If she got caught up in how hopelessly screwed up she'd become…well, it was hard enough finding the motivation to get out of bed without feeling lower then the dirt she'd scrubbed from under her nails last night. But it was so hard not to hate herself for that lack of trust…

Even though he didn't try to say things would be okay anymore. Tommy never lied on purpose. He lied…but only when it was a lie he actually believed. After "It will be okay" he'd moved on to "I'm fine" and now it seemed that "You fix things" was the latest pile of bull.

If that was true…she should be a lot happier because this relationship, this entire situation, was the ultimate "fixer upper".

She'd believed she could fix it once. Make it better…make it work. Tommy was right. Fixing what's broken? That was her thing. Problems…solutions. And that didn't just apply to technology. Haley fixed her customers problems too. And with the café geared towards teenaged clientele, there was never a shortage of problems to find solutions for. She'd thrived on it, defined herself by it.

And then she'd come face to face with the one thing that she truly, _desperately _needed to fix. The one thing that no matter what angle she came at it from…had no solution.

That was how scientists tanked their careers…banging their heads against something that couldn't be solved. Or, depending on the scientist, how they turned themselves into a mutant dinosaur hell bent on exterminating the human race.

During their long, albeit mostly one sided talk, Dr. Archer had been able to sum it up in a way Haley never could. "There's no quick fix…because there's no fixing. It just _is. _And even though eventually you'll reach an acceptance point…it's like a stage of grief. Just because you know that someone is dead, doesn't make you miss them less."

The hardest part was that Haley didn't know how to identify herself anymore. She could still put a computer back together blindfolded and have it work faster then before. But the motivation to do so was gone. What was the point? She'd already admitted defeat to the only challenge that mattered anymore.

God, she was so tired of crying. She was _tired_. She wanted to wake up and have it all be dream.

Bitter laughter broke through the tears. It all _was _a dream. Every damn night. And waking up didn't work.


End file.
